


February 15th

by tell_tale_heart



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First-time sex for Lance, For VLD Secret Valentine 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tell_tale_heart/pseuds/tell_tale_heart
Summary: Lance decides to surprise Keith on Valentine's Day with a dinner he has made himself, but it does not go as planned.And the next day is even better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for princess-tentacles on tumblr for Voltron Legendary Defender: Secret Valentine 2017! 
> 
> Happy Valentine's, princess-tentacles!! I hope you like it! Thanks for giving me some input while I was on anonymous on tumblr. :)

“You sure you can pull this off?” Hunk asks, looking doubtfully at the contents inside of the shopping cart.

“‘Course I can.” Lance smirks. “You’re not the only one who knows how to cook.”

“Right.” Hunk huffs a laugh. He has a pretty good memory of his best friend’s past attempts at making something as simple as mac and cheese. The results have been a mixed bag of edible, but not necessarily delicious, food. “Have you actually cooked for Keith before?”

Lance thinks about this. He’s been dating Keith for how long now? Just shy of five months? “Well . . . _no,_ but--”

“And why did you decide to try today of all days? Hmm?” Hunk tries to get a better look at his friend’s face, for Lance suddenly turns his head to carefully consider different boxes of linguine. “Lance?”

“Because,” Lance mumbles. “It’s romantic.” But he’s tapping rapidly at his chin with the tip of his forefinger, clearly hiding something. He can’t hide from Hunk.

“There seems to be more to it than that, buddy. . . Are you--are you _blushing?_ ”

Lance turns to Hunk then, and yes, Hunk sees how red his cheeks really are. “I want to have sex with him, okay? I want it to be special.” He says this a little too loudly, and a passing grandmother-type glares at him as she slowly pushes her cart past them.

The two friends stand there motionless in the aisle for a moment, both of them waiting for the older lady to leave. Hunk’s brain is the first to kick back in after Lance’s statement. “You mean . . you haven’t yet . . . had sex?”

This question seems to deflate Lance a little. Because it has been weighing on his mind a lot recently. It’s been almost five months and no--they haven’t had sex yet. They’ve done _things,_ of course. Making out has never been more enjoyable, how Keith seems to radiate a steady warmth all around him even on the coldest of winter days. But every time Lance pushes a little more, tries to work Keith out of his jeans or suggest they take it to a bedroom, Keith pulls away. The feeling of rejection stings at Lance, though he hides it from his boyfriend. And he keeps wondering why it is that Keith--who he knows has had sex with other guys before--doesn’t seem to want to do it with him.

“No.” He turns back to the linguine, finally grabbing a box off the shelf.

“Lance, you know he’s crazy about you, right?” Hunk pushes the cart as they head towards the checkout area.

Lance ponders this, and it worries Hunk a little. Because he’s not used to seeing his friend like this. Insecurities that started out as specks of dust in the sunlight have manifested over time into something much uglier, like a shark’s sharp teeth ripping remorselessly into the prey it has successfully caught. And Lance’s eventual response does nothing to extinguish Hunk’s concerns.

“Is he?”

“You know he is.” Lance, in fact, does know this--when not burdened by the blinding doubts he can’t seem to dispose of. Hunk lays a warm hand on his friend’s back reassuringly. “He just . . . is different than you are. Quieter. Not all ‘look at me, I’m Lance’ like you are.”

This makes Lance smile a little. “Hey. I’m not _always_ like that.”

“Ok, yeah. When you’re sleeping, maybe.”

Lance seems to perk up a little after that, Hunk’s naturally jolly aura enough to make anyone feel happier. And through being childhood best friends and now roommates, Hunk pretty much knows how to navigate around his friend’s sometimes drastic change in moods. It also helps tremendously that Hunk treats Lance to a quick lunch. So by the time they walk through the doors of their very clean apartment--Lance is pulling out all of the stops, having risen at the first light of dawn to clean--some time later, he is thoroughly cheered up, his earlier concerns vanished. Or at least they are swept under the rug for the time being. Either way, Lance is all excitement as he focuses on what he needs to do first to prepare for his first Valentine’s Day dinner with Keith.

Hunk leaves around four, for he has plans with his long-time girlfriend, Shay. They don’t have anything elaborate planned--something like take-out and a movie--for which Lance had scoffed at a few days back when he had found out. Hunk had shaken his head, not at all bothered when Lance bragged about how he was going to make “the best surprise Valentine’s dinner _ever,_ ” just happy that his friend had finally found someone he cared about to go through all of this effort for.

“See ya,” Hunk calls out, shrugging on his winter coat. Lance is busy reading over his recipe, setting everything on the counter so that he can triple-check that he has everything he needs for dinner.

“Later.”

“And Lance,” Hunk adds meaningfully, waiting for his friend to look up, “ _have fun._ ”

This makes his friend blush but he grins, waving Hunk away with a “Yeah, yeah.”

The next couple of hours pass by in a flash. After Hunk leaves, Lance puts on some sappy music from Pandora, singing to classic love songs while he preps the ingredients for dinner. Green onions, dill, and parsley are chopped perfectly. Garlic is minced, lemons squeezed. Lance even measures out the salt and pepper, as well as the butter and olive oil. He wants this dinner to be perfect, all the pieces in place. He hasn’t stopped moving since cleaning the apartment this morning, but doesn’t yet feel tired in the slightest.

Maybe that will come later, after he and Keith have _hopefully_ been able to thoroughly celebrate this night.

Lance has the linguine boiling, and the garlic and onions sautéeing when there is a knock on the door.

It can only be one person. He smiles, heart oh-so-happy.

“Come in!”

The apartment, being small, provides an unobstructed view of the front door. Keith pops his head in, and he is smiling, too, once he sees Lance. And god, is he beautiful. Lance’s heart does an ungraceful flop in his chest, so amazed, yet again that he is dating Keith Kogane.

Right from day one, Lance had thought he was gorgeous. He had seen him walking into the lecture hall that first day in World Civ. and hadn’t paid attention to anything the instructor had said. Lance’s blue eyes had intently studied the stranger’s profile for 50 minutes, enamored with the fall of his black hair and how he tucked some of it behind his ear halfway through the class. And his lithely muscled arms, the way he intently seemed to be concentrating. How near the end of the lecture, Keith had turned Lance’s way, sensing someone staring at him. And oh geez, that had been it. Sign, sealed, delivered, he was Keith’s.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Lance had declared to Pidge as class let out, feeling a bold rush of resolution take hold in him.

“Good luck,” Pidge had said doubtfully, not believing that Lance would actually go through with it.

Five minutes later, Lance had a name and a number, and the rest was history. To this day, he is still amazed at his good fortune.

“Hey.” Keith comes near, slinging an arm around Lance’s waist and kissing him softly on the cheek. Lance smells the faint scent of Keith’s cologne, which is some woodsy, spicy scent. He absolutely loves it, how it lingers on his clothes even after Keith leaves. “You’re looking great.”

“Thanks,” Lance says, cheeks reddening slightly. Sometimes it’s still hard to accept compliments from his boyfriend of a handful of months. But it’s gotten easier, because the admiring expression on his face, the genuine tone in his voice, has always been something that has rung crystal clear to Lance. He is glad that he put in an extra effort today to look nice. Gone are his ratty jeans with a ripped back pocket and faded band t-shirt from his high school days. He had ditched them in favor of some nice dark-wash jeans and a comfortable sweater.

But Keith’s next words are like the unforgiving cold and unwelcome surprise of snow forced down your back.

“What’s the occasion?”

Wait. _What?_

Lance instantly freezes, thought process stalled and going into a nosedive. Is that a joke? Is Keith kidding with him right now? So he slowly pivots his head, eyes wide and uncertain as his eyes meet Keith’s, who has begun to look at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

He’s not kidding.

The realization does something to Lance, and his heart plummets like an elevator whose cables have snapped, the emergency backups not functioning. How can . . . how can Keith not know what day it is? He has to know--there are posters up all over campus about it, there are decorations in the stores. He has to have seen them. So--so maybe that means that it just isn’t important to him, _Lance_ isn’t important to him.

Somehow he finds his words.

“It’s, uh.” Lance clears his throat, mechanically adding in most of the remaining ingredients to the pan and securing a lid over it. He can’t quite look at Keith anymore, doesn’t want him to see the way he can’t hide the sudden cascade of emotions on his face. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh.” Keith sounds surprised. “Is it really?”

Lance can’t answer that, not with the way his heart feels like it’s being crushed. So he remains silent, reaching for the dill and parsley that are next to be added to the pan, then stirring the linguine absentmindedly. All the zest has gone out of his cooking performance. But as the silence wears on, Keith gently turns Lance around so that they are fully facing each other, his hands firm on Lance’s waist.

“Lance?”

Lance is looking down at the linoleum tiles, eyes tracing the patterns in an attempt to dam the tears that even now he can feel welling up. He absolutely does not want Keith to see them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Keith sounds worried now, and he lightly pushes Lance’s chin up so that he can better get a read on his expression. “Are you . . . upset that I--that I didn’t know or forgot about Valentine’s Day?”

There are a lot of qualities that make Lance spectacular. His friends know a lot of them, though Lance doesn’t give himself enough credit for what he does well. Keith has come to recognize a lot of his boyfriend’s glowing attributes over the last five months, too, and cherishes each one.

Like the fact that Lance has never been, nor never will be an angry person. He takes a lot upon himself, so that the burden doesn’t weigh too heavily upon others. So somehow he summons the strength to smile at Keith, his bright eyes quite beautiful as he pushes away negative thoughts for the time being.

“Ah--no.” He takes Keith’s hand. “I just . . . have been up all day, and uh, you know I never really cook, right?” His smile grows, though inside it still feels wobbly. Keith nods, eyes still scanning over Lance’s face. “I just hope dinner tastes good.”

Lance isn’t sure if Keith buys it, but luckily he needs to turn his attention back to cooking. The last two ingredients are added, and then he moves to drain the linguine. So he doesn’t see Keith’s eyes fall on the bottle of wine waiting for them on the small dinner table. Or the beautifully wrapped gift propped up near where he guesses that he is supposed to be sitting tonight. A few things click together all at once, and he feels a wave of shame coat the inner workings of his heart. Blue-violet eyes pan back over to Lance, who is putting together two plates of food for them, limbs robotic. Horrified, he tries to find the words to convey what he’s feeling right now, to try and be the healing salve Lance needs for his metaphorical wound.

They both move to the table, taking their seats, each one quiet with the churnings of emotions weighing heavily upon them. Lance is about to take a bite, still forcing a content expression on his face, when Keith speaks.

“Lance.” The addressed looks up, startled by the intensity in his boyfriend’s voice, surprised to see him gripping a fork tightly in his fist. “I, uh. I think you know this already about me . . . but . . . before you, I never dated anyone. Never really wanted to, either.”

He continues to listen, the turbulent status of his thoughts slowing to a calmer flow. Keith presses on, his brows furrowed as he looks up, no longer staring at his plate.

“You--you are so fucking special to me, you know? Like . . . amazing, really. I’m not really good with words, but uh, this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize . . . didn’t open my fucking eyes to see that this day was coming up. I should have realized. But please. Don’t for a second think that this means I don’t care about you. That I don’t love you.”

Lance’s eyes widen at that. Because Keith has only said it on a few occasions before, and it means so much to hear those words again. And that crystal clear sincerity is there in his voice, pouring out from his expression. So there is no doubting that he means what he says. It makes Lance feel a little better, honestly, to hear that. Some of his doubts fall away, like a snake sloughing off its old skin. But there’s another question he wants to ask, too.

“Why then--are you not interested . . . in sex . . . with me?” His voice is on the verge of being tremulous, and he knows Keith hears it. Lance quickly glances back down at his plate, at the dinner he has made.

“You want to do that?” Keith asks, his voice husky. There is pressure on Lance’s hand, and he sees that Keith has covered it with one of his own.

“Yes,” Lance says quietly. “But, uh, each time I try, it seems like you back off. And it made me think . . . I don’t know. That maybe you weren’t interested in that. With me.”

“Lance.” He meets Keith’s eyes again, which are wide and earnest. “I want that so much. You have no idea--the thoughts.” He exhales a deep breath, seeming to think over his words. “From the beginning, I saw just how wonderful you were. Truly. Like . . how could this hot guy come up and ask _me_ for my number?”

Lance would normally make some sort of face at that, in exasperation. Because, c’mon, he totally sees how gorgeous and amazing Keith is. But they are opening up to each other, and he starts to think that maybe they should have had this talk a long time ago.

Keith smiles gently, squeezing Lance’s hand. “Then we went on a date and you were so funny. Remember how we talked and laughed the entire time we were at the restaurant?” Lance nods, remembering, his smile growing, this time in sincere happiness. He had been so nervous at first that night. But those anxieties had vanished from the moment he had seen Keith’s eager smile. Lance had gotten some sort of sauce on his face at one point. Under different circumstances, he would have been mortified. But Keith had just grinned and told him, “I want to kiss you later. If you still have blue cheese on your face then, well okay. But if not, even better.” That good-night kiss had been sweet and tender--Lance’s cheeks had burned bright red the rest of the night, which Hunk hadn’t failed to notice.

“You’re just the best person I’ve ever known. And so fucking smart. Not to mention that your friends love you.” Here Keith paused, before continuing in a quieter voice. “I could tell you were different--I didn’t want to just hook up with you and have it be just that. So--hmm. You know I’ve had sex before. But it didn’t mean anything with them. It was kind of a horrible experience all around, if I’m being honest. Not having any feelings invested in it. So I guess I wanted to wait a while for us to do it.”

“Really?” Lance says, feeling uplifted.

“Yes, really. And . . . I know you haven’t had sex yet. So I was waiting for you to tell me you were ready. I actually thought I was pushing _you_ too fast, and that’s something I never want to do.”

Oh.

Lance puts his head in his hands. “I’m so stupid,” he murmurs. “I should have said something. I-I was just . . . scared, I guess, I don’t know. That maybe you didn’t want that with me.”

Keith is there in an instant, pulling Lance’s hands away so that he can see his face. “Hey. You’re not stupid. I can understand being scared. And let me assure you, I do very much want that. With you.”

Lance looks up at that, surprised. Keith is gazing at him so fondly, a red flush creeping onto his cheeks, kneeling beside him. “Maybe we just need to work on being open with each other. Well, we definitely do. Could have saved each of us some worrying.”

“ _And_ we could have had sex sooner,” Lance points out, with the beginnings of his smirk returning.

Keith presses his lips gently to Lance’s, rising up to his knees so that the angle is less awkward. It’s an accumulation of tender affection, of a love so honest and giving, that by the time Keith pulls away and returns to his own seat, Lance is speechless with the power of it. It is safe to say that all of his doubts are, this time, gone. Maybe not for good, because Lance will always be the type to absorb the occasional doubt and not shred it before it takes hold in him. But next time, next time Lance feels confident that he will talk to Keith about it.

Their dinner by this time has grown a little cold, but that doesn’t hold back either of them from thoroughly enjoying it. Keith clears his entire plate and goes back for seconds, to Lance’s delight. He doesn’t even try to hide his wide smile once Keith sits back down at the table, this time moving his chair closer to his boyfriend. They talk the whole time, the mood buoyant and loving. Their spare hands are occupied--fingers laced together and resting on Lance’s thigh.

After dinner is done and the dishes washed (Keith had insisted on being the dishwasher whereas Lance wouldn’t have minded leaving them for Hunk to grumble over the next day), they settle on the couch together. The movie is some romantic comedy that Lance likes and Keith doesn’t mind watching, because of the way his boyfriend’s lips curl up into a sappy smile during the sweet scenes. They’re both pleasantly full from dinner, and the carb content of their meal starts to take a quick effect, lulling them into a warm doze.

Lance wakes up to the ending credits of the film and gently wakes up Keith so that they can both go to sleep in his bed. They’re still half-asleep as they kiss good-night, and adjust their limbs until they are both comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Lance sets his backpack on the table with a heavy thunk. Pidge rolls her eyes at him in exasperation at the disturbance, before going back to her work on her laptop.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk says, glancing up from his books as Lance takes a seat beside him.

“Hey.” Lance sifts around in his backpack until he finds what he’s looking for, surreptitiously opening his bag of potato chips underneath the table. He’s not supposed to have food in the library, and knows this, but still can’t be bothered to follow the rules.

Hunk hears the telltale crunching noise as Lance bites down on a chip, though, and looks over at his friend in amusement. “You know you’re not supposed to have those in here, right? The librarian caught you with that Red Bull last week and threatened to kick you out next time if you broke the rules again.”

Lance shrugs. “So I won’t get caught.”

His friend just shakes his head, but then remembers something. “So. Lance.”

Lance looks over at him with eyebrows raised in question, and Hunk is glad that he decides not to talk with his mouth full of partially-chewed food.

“Last night go to your liking?” He elbows his friend good-naturedly in the side. Pidge looks up at the question, curious despite herself but trying to do it in a nonchalant way. Everybody knows that Pidge has the most dirt on everyone in their friend group, though how she came by some of this information will always remain a mystery. Lance takes a moment to think about his answer, swallowing his food.

“We had a good time,” Lance says carefully. “He had two servings of dinner.”

Now, everyone knows that Lance, despite his tendency to fall prey to his insecurities, is often very cocky. So it’s a little weird for both Pidge and Hunk to not see him bragging about his Valentine’s Day dinner from the previous night. About how much Keith loved it or what a good boyfriend Lance was to have thought about it in the first place.

“Did he not like the chocolates you gave him?” Hunk asks, stealing a chip from Lance. Ew. Barbeque. Gross.

Lance shakes his head. “No, he liked them.”

“Well then, what is it? Because you don’t look exactly like the cat who got the cream.” Hunk waggles his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Lance narrows his eyes at his best friend. “Are you  . . . being gross?”

“Probably.”

 _Crunch crunch._ Potato chip crumbs fall on the table top but Lance doesn’t seem to see them, pretending to concentrate on eating, as if these particular barbeque-flavored potato chips are the most delectable things he’s ever eaten. Once he eventually swallows, he intentionally stares back at Pidge who quickly begins typing away at her computer and then at Hunk.

“Everything was great.”

And he really means it, too. Sure, part of last night was . . . a little sad. But Lance mostly remembers how unburdened he felt after talking with Keith. How he felt loved. And desired. He recalls how he pledged to himself that he would talk to Keith more when those inevitable insecurities about his everyday life started nagging at him. The peace of his mind when he fell asleep with Keith--which is pretty much the best thing in the world. The good morning kiss he was greeted with when Keith got up early to head back towards his own apartment.

Hunk doesn’t get the chance to question his friend further--and probably wouldn’t have anyways--because the aforementioned librarian walks by just then. By some miracle, Lance happens to see her just in time, hiding his hands under the table and pretending to be deep in concentration on whatever book is open in front of him. She does look at him a little suspiciously, but it’s probably more of a grimace at remembering his previous misdeed than harboring a belief that he would actually break the same rule twice.

The three of them are walking together across campus an hour or so later to eat some lunch when Lance receives a text from Keith.

_Can you come over tonight? Around 7?_

Lance smiles. The two of them don’t usually hang out a lot during the week because of school, because both of them are serious about their grades. But Lance figures that they can work on their homework together while they hang out, which they do occasionally.

_Yeah. I’ll see you then._

“Have either of you guys talked to Shiro today?” Pidge asks, sounding a little disgruntled.

“No.”

“Uh uh.”

Pidge sighs. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of him for a few hours now. He promised to give me his notes for biotech but he’s nowhere to be found. And my test is in _five days._ ”

“I’m sure he’ll come through,” Hunk says in a reassuring tone. Lance’s mind is on seeing his boyfriend so he doesn’t really follow their conversation.

“I know, but. Ugh. I wish I could get his notes today.”

 

* * *

 

Lance knocks on Keith’s apartment door a few minutes before 7 pm, his backpack braced comfortably on his back. There’s no answer after a reasonable amount of time, so Lance knocks again.

“Keith?”

The door opens slowly, and there Keith is, looking as stunning as ever. He’s wearing a simple tight red t-shirt and slim fitting jeans, but the fabric of both clings to his body in a very pleasing way. Lance swallows heavily.

_So fucking hot._

“Come in,” Keith says, opening the door wider, some sort of strange expression on his face. Lance doesn’t know if it’s Keith being nervous or hopeful or excited. Maybe a mixture between the three, because his eyes are crinkling on the sides but he’s biting his lip. But he quickly stops wondering because the inside of the apartment--which Keith shares with Shiro--is a marvel.

The lights in the apartment are off. But everywhere Lance looks there seems to be clusters of lit candles, casting a warm honey hue on the walls. There are three positioned on the kitchen counter. On the small kitchen cart near the refrigerator. There on the coffee table in the living room. On a side table on the other side of the couch. Next to the television. It creates such an intimate vibe to the apartment, warm flickering light everywhere he turns.

Lance’s jaw drops at all that he sees, blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Because that’s not all. There are red streamers hanging from the ceiling, creating a trail that leads out from the kitchen and into the living room. And then into the hallway. Red balloons are touching the ceiling everywhere in the front part of the apartment, their white ribbons curling down and most assuredly will tickle their faces when they walk by.

But Lance’s surprised eyes are locked on the dining room table. He takes a few steps towards it, the surface scarcely wide enough for three people to dine at. Yet the small size of the table, which he has seen many times before, is not what has caught his attention.

It’s the fact that the entire surface is covered with what looks like gifts. For him.

He blindly reaches behind him for Keith, and feels warmth all over when his boyfriend links their fingers together and gives them a squeeze. There is a _huge_ heart-shaped box of chocolates, probably similar in length as that of the distance between his palm to the joint in his elbow. Next to it are what looks like some artfully-wrapped chocolate-dipped pretzels. Homemade, perhaps? Lance isn’t sure, but hasn’t regained the power of speech to ask about it. Beside both of these things is a stuffed teddy bear holding a heart. He knows, without question, that he will treasure it forever. Last are some of the most gorgeous red roses he has ever seen, arranged beautifully into a clear glass vase.

“Keith?” Lance questions thickly. Unsurprisingly, his throat is starting to swell with the threat of tears. But he doesn’t feel like he has to hold them back this time. Slowly, he reaches forward to touch the roses, their petals velvety-smooth against the pads of his fingers.

Keith moves closer. “I figured. . . since I messed up yesterday. . . that you could have February 14th, and I can have February 15th. So we celebrate for two days."

Lance looks at him with all of the tender affection in the world, heart swollen with a kind of love he has only ever experienced with Keith. He wipes at his eyes. “It’s beautiful in here.” He looks around and then back to the table, slowly becoming aware of all of the effort that Keith must have gone through to do this. “Did you do this by yourself?”

“No. Shiro helped.” Keith smiles wryly. “I let him hang the streamers. Though I did make a dessert for you.”

“What?!” It’s no secret that Lance _loves_ mostly anything that has sugar in it. More than once, while gaming online with Pidge, he has eaten a whole box of Chips Ahoy! cookies by himself in one sitting.

Keith leads him silently towards the kitchen, where a pie has been cooling on a rack. “For you.”

Lance’s eyes bulge at the pecan pie on the counter, its crust a lovely golden-brown. He barely resists the temptation to dip a finger into the filling. “You made my favorite!”

“Yup.”

Lance plants a huge kiss on Keith, happier than he has been in months. Years, maybe. He feels weightless, and it’s all because of his wonderful, gorgeous, thoughtful boyfriend.

“We should do this every year,” Lance says reverently, as Keith moves to cut both of them a slice of pie.

Keith’s smile is supremely happy--Lance realizes that he has mentioned the words “every year,” and he blushes. Well. He wants there to be an every year with Keith.

“That’s the idea,” is all Keith says, transferring a piece of pie over to a plate.

They eat their dessert on the couch, Lance trying to eat it slowly so as to enjoy it longer. But he remembers that there is an entire pie, so he can just get another slice if he wants. He looks around the decorated apartment, gazing slowly at the soft glow the candles are putting off, the way it illuminates the walls nearby. It’s so quiet in here, just the sound of their light breathing audible. Lance dares to hope that what he wished for yesterday can come true tonight. He turns back to Keith, who has been watching him, intense blue-violet eyes full of admiration.

“I want to kiss you,” Lance says quietly, the mood shifting from sweet and doting to something more intimate.

Keith leans forward obligingly, and they kiss softly. Gently. They have nowhere else to be, no worrying about someone disturbing them. The relative darkness of the room cloaks each of them in a dim sort of light, but it is still enough for Lance to briefly see Keith’s dark lashes against the stark contrast of his pale skin.

Firm hands find their way to Lance’s hips, fingers pushing up his t-shirt and touching the skin underneath. Lance welcomes the rush of heat in his body at that simple touch, and he very much yearns for Keith to touch him all over, with his hands, with his mouth. So he does what he can do maintain the intensity between them, tonguing eagerly into Keith’s mouth.

“ _Yes. Lance,”_ Keith murmurs, before he, too, is darting his tongue forward to meet Lance’s. The sweet taste of pecan pie remains on Keith’s tongue, and Lance thinks fleetingly that there is surely nothing more satisfying to taste than that. Their kissing becomes more urgent, their breathing picks up. Lance feels Keith’s hands traveling up and down his sides, on his back. And then he is lightly tugging on Lance, encouraging him forward.

_Oh shit._

They are finally going further, and Lance absolutely knows he is ready, knows he wants this more than anything. It seems too good to be true for a brief moment, before he pushes aside all unnecessary thoughts and easily moves so that he is sitting on Keith’s lap.

Lance can feel his cock hardening in his jeans, his whole body eagerly anticipating what might be happening soon enough. He kisses Keith with greater fervor than before, setting an urgent pace, both of them beginning to moan softly. And Lance can’t help it, he begins to rock in Keith’s lap, pressing his hips down into his boyfriend’s, feeling a corresponding hardness there.

“Mmmm,” Lance moans, a little louder now. Keith’s name is a soft exhalation of breath, and he begins to push his hips harder into his boyfriend’s, becoming more demanding.

Keith gets the message. He pulls Lance’s shirt off, getting some assistance when he can’t reach to shift it over the top of Lance’s head. He gazes at Lance’s bare chest for a brief moment, his hands roaming quickly over his abdomen, before his mouth descends onto his warm chest, pressing wet kisses into his skin. Lance sets both of his hands on Keith’s shoulders, letting loose a louder moan when his boyfriend palms his ass and pulls him into grinding harder on him again.

“S-shit,” Keith says between a groan. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Bedroom?” Lance suggests, tugging at Keith’s shirt now.

“ _Yes.”_

Lance awkwardly moves backwards off of Keith’s lap, helping his boyfriend to stand. Those blue-violet eyes are all over him, hands again resting on Lance’s hips. But they both want more, so Keith lifts his arms when Lance pulls up on his shirt. And then grabs Lance by the hand and leads the way to his bedroom.

They resume kissing on Keith’s bed, lying down so that they are facing each other, legs intertwined. Lance feels hot all over, eager to continue where they left off. So he reaches for the button on Keith’s jeans, surprised when he finds Keith’s hands already doing what he had intended.

Keith laughs lightly against Lance’s mouth. “A little excited, aren’t you?”

“Mmmhmm,” he hums, moving forward for another kiss.

“Take . . . take yours off, too,” Keith murmurs.

Lance does, and they both shift apart on the bed to pull their jeans off. The high intensity is still there, but Lance is a little nervous now. He doesn’t want to mess anything up, he doesn’t want to be bad. He doesn’t want Keith to be disappointed in his lanky, mostly naked body. So he can’t look over at his boyfriend, at first, when they come back together.

“Lance.” Keith has crawled on top of him, now, warm hands grazing over his chest. His bare shoulders. Their lower bodies are touching, rubbing against each other. But Lance is still looking off to the side, eyes trained on the wall.

 _“Lance.”_ He finally meets Keith’s anxious gaze. “Are you okay? Do you . . . do you still want to do this?” Keith touches Lance’s cheek tenderly, running his thumb over his chin.

“Yes.” Lance moves his head to kiss Keith’s hand.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Lance remembers his pledge from yesterday to talk to Keith when he’s feeling insecure. And he knows it’s not the most opportune time, but he feels as if he doesn’t say something now, he never will. It’ll just ball up inside of him until it starts to affect other aspects of their relationship.

“I’m--I’m nervous about this. I don’t want to mess up. And, uh. I’m skinny, right? Like too skinny.”

Keith listens to him seriously, but then his face relaxes. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you. Your body . . . it’s got this kind of grace about it when you move. Like a swimmer. Or a dancer.”

“I used to swim, in high school.”

Keith smiles. “I can tell.” His hands smooth over Lance’s abdomen again. “I bet it was wonderful to watch. And . . . I don’t think you’re ‘too skinny.’” He leans down, placing kisses near Lance’s belly button, his hips. “I love how long your legs are. How you can do that weird double-jointed arm thing. Everything about you, really. And it’s okay if one of us ‘messes up.’ Just means we get to practice more.”

Lance’s concerns start to melt away against the onslaught of Keith’s tender attentions. His boyfriend isn’t being overtly sexual right now with each kiss. Instead, each press of lips against Lance’s skin is a reverent touch, illustrating just how much Keith really treasures Lance’s body. And it makes him glad that he spoke up, when normally he would have closed the thought off for processing later. He really should speak up more often, when he starts to feel those nagging insecurities weighing on him.

“I love you,” Lance whispers, pulling on Keith so that he can kiss him on the mouth.

“I love you, too,” Keith says against his lips.

When they both fumble around awkwardly some minutes later, it doesn’t make Lance quiver internally in shame. He knocks his forehead against Keith’s at one point, and Keith just smiles into their kiss. And when Keith forgets the placement of his own hands and falls bodily on top of Lance, they both breathily laugh for a moment. It feels _right._ It feels like them.

Their kissing grows hot and heavy again, after a time. Lance is on top now, and both of them have taken off their underwear. Keith is loosely stroking Lance’s cock, his other hand on his ass, encouraging the movement of Lance fucking into his hand. But a question remains unanswered, hanging above them in the room. They haven’t really talked about it, before. Keith is the first to broach the subject.

“What. . . what would you like better?”

Lance doesn’t know what he’s talking about, stimulated by the thrilling sensation of Keith grasping his cock tighter with each pass of Lance’s hips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, uh. Would you rather I do you . . .or you can do me?”

_Oh._

If possible, Lance’s face gets even hotter in embarrassment. He hides his face in the crook of Keith’s neck, pressing hasty kisses onto his pale skin. He’s thought about this before, of course, the two of them in a variety of positions. Sometimes he’s the one thrusting his dick into Keith, sometime it’s the other way around. “Either is fine.”

“Okay.” Keith exhales slowly, as if bracing himself for what he will ask next. “Can I . . . fuck you then?”

Lance feels a little relieved. He would prefer that, actually, for his first time with Keith, but hadn’t wanted to say so in case his boyfriend wanted it the other way.

“Yes.”

Keith takes him by the hips and pushes him gently to the side. Lance watches with wide eyes as he stands and roots around in his nightstand, grabbing what looks like a new bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms. He’s getting more nervous now, anxiously placing a palm on his chest over where his heart is beating anxiously. But when Keith struggles with opening the box of condoms, eventually just ripping open the top when he can’t undo the adhesive, Lance smiles. Maybe Keith is just as nervous about this as he is.

“I didn’t think--wasn’t sure--if we were going to do this tonight,” Keith says by way of explanation, running a hand through his dark hair.

He joins Lance again on the bed, setting the lube and condom beside them. “Can I?” Keith asks, eyes steady as he looks at Lance. “Can I prep you?”

Oh. Lance flushes, head ducking down. He hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe--maybe I’ll do it this time. If you don’t mind,” he says nervously.

“Alright,” Keith says gently. “Whatever you want.” He eases down onto the comforter again, watching heatedly as Lance grabs the lube and pours some onto his fingers.

Shit. Lance hadn’t thought about the fact that Keith would be watching him. But he wanted it this way, so Lance breathes in deeply and then out, knees on the comforter. And then resolutely, he begins to work one of his fingers inside of him, the muscles on his face moving without conscious thought at the new sensations he is feeling.

“Ahh,” he moans, his eyes fluttering shut. It feels better tonight than those times he’s touched himself like this in the shower. Probably because Keith is here with him, and he knows what will be replacing his fingers soon enough. Carefully, Lance inserts a second finger, working his fingers and hips in tandem to better open himself up.

“Lance, you’re so hot, so fucking hot,” Keith murmurs after a moment. Lance opens his eyes, turned on beyond belief when he sees that Keith is stroking himself, intently watching Lance. And when Lance works a third digit inside of himself, the lewd sound of his lubed fingers being sucked into his ass, Keith rises to his own hands and knees. He’s unable to keep his distance, wanting desperately to be inside of Lance. But he holds himself back, content for the moment with trailing wet kisses down the length of Lance’s shoulder, then back up into the crook of his neck.

“I’m-I’m ready,” Lance whispers, drawing his wet fingers out of himself, wiping them on his discarded boxer briefs.

“Excellent,” Keith croons into his ear. He pushes on Lance’s hip lightly, situating him on his back. Now Keith feels a little bit of nervous energy fueling his movements, his muscles jerky as he grabs a pillow and pushes it under Lance’s hips. And then again when he slides a condom on.

He takes a few calming breaths, focusing on the way his hand feels against Lance’s darker, warm skin. The way his boyfriend is gazing at him with unwavering trust, with a beaming love. How Lance’s hand finds his and squeezes once. As if with that gesture reminding him that they are in this together.

Keith pushes into Lance slowly, holding his position halfway in, and then rocks his hips back out. He takes a couple of minutes to gradually works himself all the way in, minding the way Lance is breathing shallowly in and out, hands tensely gripping at the comforter.

“Does it hurt?” Keith huffs out, his own body tense with the combined want to _move,_ to fuck his amazingly hot boyfriend, and the stronger need to make sure he isn’t in pain.

“No--it feels weird, kinda.” Lance’s words are stilted. “But please, Keith, fuck me already.”

Oh fuck.

Keith does, bending his body over Lance’s, firmly pressing his palm to the back of one of his boyfriend’s knees for better access. It’s been quite some time since the last time he’s had sex, and oh god, does Lance feel so good. He keeps up a steady rhythm with each thrust, his lips hovering over Lance’s, their moans mingling together in mutual enjoyment.

“You feel, so good,” Keith manages to say, his breath coming fast and his voice sounding winded.

Lance can’t manage as many words as that. “Keith . . . “ is all he says, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, pushing his own hips into Keith’s.

It’s only a minute or two later that Keith realizes, much to his embarrassment, that he isn’t going to last much longer. It’s probably partly due to how long it’s been, but moreso because of Lance himself. How his boyfriend has thrown his head back into a pillow, thereby arching his back. He looks so stunning like that, graceful again like a swimmer performing a complex maneuver. Keith feels the buildup of pressure forming below, and moves his spare hand to stroke Lance’s cock.

“Hahhhh,” Lance groans, for a moment mistiming his own thrusts. But he seems to relax under Keith, letting his boyfriend build the rhythm back between them. Bright blue eyes open, meeting Keith’s. Lips stay parted, his back still arched. It’s with that very beautiful sight that Keith comes with a groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of Lance’s knee.

He thrusts a few more times, holding himself steady against Lance’s sweaty body. But he hasn’t forgotten that Lance hasn’t come yet, so he devotes all of his attention to fisting Lance’s cock, his eyes now able to appreciate his boyfriend coming undone from his hand.

Lance comes with a shout, his lower body jolting up with his orgasm. Keith works him through it, eyes committing to memory how Lance looks at this moment, watching as his stomach becomes covered in his own come.

They each have no words for a moment, prioritizing the need to calm their frantic breathing and coming to terms with just how amazing and new and _hot_ that had been, despite the occasional fumbling of limbs.

But Keith eventually pulls out of Lance, concerned at the strained expression on his boyfriend’s face when he does so.

“Doesn’t hurt,” Lance explains hurriedly. “Just different.”

Keith nods, squeezing Lance’s knee affectionately before moving off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, headed towards the bathroom. He returns a minute later with a clean and dampened washcloth, carefully wiping at Lance’s stomach until he is no longer soiled. With that done, he carelessly tosses the cloth into his empty hamper nearby, and then flops onto the bed.

“Keith.”

“Hmmm?” He looks up from their joined hands to the relaxed expression on Lance’s face. “Let’s do that . . . a lot more.”

Keith laughs loudly, carefree and happy. “Yeah. We will.” He caresses the inside of Lane’s thigh, marveling at the casual intimacy of it, but his eyes haven’t left Lance’s face. “You know,” he begins thoughtfully. “You’re like crazy beautiful.”

Lance reddens but grins. “Are you always so sappy after sex?”

“I think it’ll always be like that . . . with you.”

They eventually decide that they’re hungry, and order a pizza for delivery. Still enjoying the lazy stupor of after-sex, they find themselves sharing a fork and feeding each other more of the pecan pie on the couch, clothed just in underwear. Lance is feeling playful, and on top of the world, so he purposely misses Keith’s face for the next bite, smearing it on his cheek. He belly laughs at Keith’s shocked and indignant expression. But Keith doesn’t let him get away with it, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend and thereby smearing some of the pie on his face, too. It’s messy for a few minutes after that, because they find themselves making out again, their kisses affectionate and sweet.

The doorbell rings then, and it’s a rush to put on more clothes to answer the door. Keith eventually does, though his shirt is on inside out and he’s wearing Lance’s too-long jeans. He gets a very strange look from the delivery boy, which Keith wonders about, until Lance guffaws at the still-smeared pie on his face.

“I think I like February 15th even better,” Lance says thoughtfully once they are sitting on the couch again, munching on pizza. “Guess I’ll have to up my game next year.”

Keith smiles softly, wondering if it’s possible to love this man even more. But then his eyes narrow playfully at the challenge. “Looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Come talk klance (or whatever you'd like) to me [here](http://telltaleheartwrites.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day to you all!


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